Holidays don’t feel the same. Everyone dances around your name.
Every time I meant to write you or call, I meant to ask what your life was like when you were my age. Did you fall in love?
Did you ever feel like we were all meant to be the same, even when we parted the veil of death? Did you feel we’re not gone, just lost?
Not dead, just lost.
Maybe we’re read in the same pages.
Maybe death is just a closed book.
So open it.
First chapter reads: “Death is a veil; on one side hope, on the other side knowing.”
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